


under my skin

by 324b2fun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Sparring, Training but Make It Filled with Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/324b2fun/pseuds/324b2fun
Summary: When Ingrid offers to help Dorothea train, things take a turn as Ingrid finds herself with more than she expected.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	under my skin

Ingrid has just stepped out of her room when Mercedes and Annette happen to walk by. Both of them eye Ingrid’s attire for a moment before Annette says, “Hey, Ingrid. Headed somewhere? Mercie and I were on our way to the kitchen for an evening snack, maybe some hot cocoa, if you want to join.” 

At Annette’s words, Ingrid subconsciously runs a hand over the worn tunic and leggings. She tells herself they’re probably just curious since it’s rare to see anyone out of their uniform. Ingrid offers an awkward smile, “Sounds nice, but I’m actually going to the training grounds right now.”

“Again?” Mercedes asks with a raised eyebrow. “You already trained quite hard in the afternoon, Ingrid. You shouldn’t push yourself too much.” 

“I’ll take it easy,” Ingrid assures her. She absently fixes her bangs before adding, “Besides, I’m not really training as much as I’m helping someone out.”

Annette perks up while Mercedes smiles that coy, knowing smile that Ingrid has learned to fear. It takes all of her willpower not to take a step back as Mercedes asks, “Oh, and who are you helping out?”

“Dorothea,” Ingrid answers evenly, but her cheeks burn red as the name leaves her lips.

“Dorothea,” Mercedes repeats in a playful hum that does not help Ingrid’s blush and makes Annette giggle beside her. “That’s very kind of you to help someone from another house, Ingrid.” She reaches out and brushes her fingertips against Ingrid’s arm. “Still, even if you are not the one training, do be careful.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ingrid rolls her eyes. She grabs Mercedes’ hand from where it lingers on her arm and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll swing by the kitchens after I’m finished to see if you two are still there, okay?”

“We’ll save you some hot cocoa,” Annette jumps in with a bright smile. “Maybe if we’re lucky, Mercie will do some baking for us too.”

“Don’t tempt me to cut my training short,” Ingrid laughs. 

“I’ll bake something if you come by to tell us how it goes with Dorothea,” Mercedes says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I’m sure it’ll be quite… the productive training session.”

Ingrid squints at her, “Do you know something I don’t?”

“No need to be so paranoid,” Mercedes replies breezily. She pats her shoulder. “You’d better get going before you’re late.”

Ingrid looks to Mercedes’ serene expression to Annette’s beaming one, wanting to probe further, but Mercedes is right. Ingrid will have to hurry if she doesn’t want to be late. With one last suspicious glance over her shoulder, Ingrid hurries to the training grounds. When she arrives, Dorothea is already there. She stands in front of the rack of swords with her lips pursed in what could either be in thought or distaste. It’s hard to tell with Dorothea sometimes. She’s dressed similarly to Ingrid, and her long curls are pulled into a neat and high ponytail that leaves her neck bare. 

Dorothea’s bored look disappears from her face as she spots Ingrid, a warm smile spreading across her lips. “My Ingrid, you look lovely,” Dorothea says, almost automatically.

“I’m wearing old training clothes,” Ingrid replies dryly, even as she blushes at the compliment.

“Still lovely,” Dorothea says with a shrug. She grabs a sword from the rack and twirls it around with far more finesse than Ingrid expects. She must be staring because Dorothea grins and says, “What, don’t tell me you thought I was completely hopeless.”

“Not at all,” Ingrid lies. 

She had, in fact, thought Dorothea was going to be an absolute disaster around blades. She’s never seen Dorothea fight. All she knows is that Dorothea prefers magic, so when Dorothea had off-handedly remarked her swords skills needed work, Ingrid had eagerly offered her assistance. However, looking at Dorothea now, Ingrid wonders if she’s out of her depth. Although she knows how to use a sword well enough, it’s been a while since she truly worked with one since her specialty is lance. With the ease Dorothea carries her sword, she may actually know more than Ingrid. 

“Regretting your offer?” Dorothea asks, snapping Ingrid out of her thoughts. She wears a seemingly innocent smile with a sharp edge that makes Ingrid stand a little straighter. Dorothea does a test swing into the air and says, “If it makes you feel better, we can use the training weapons.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Ingrid quickly agrees. She feels so off-balanced that fighting with actual weapons may end with her poking her own eye out. She walks over to where the wooden lances and starts stretching as she watches Dorothea. “You can warm up while I stretch,” Ingrid calls out to her.

Dorothea calls back her acknowledgement and starts moving through a basic set of sword forms. She moves slowly and gracefully, and Ingrid’s eyes track every move. She recalls a time when Dorothea described herself as a rose with thorns, beautiful but dangerous. That description has never felt more accurate.

After a few more minutes of stretching, Ingrid walks up to Dorothea with her lance clenched in her hands. Dorothea’s a little flushed by now, and Ingrid tries not to be distracted by the fact. Ingrid falls into a fighting stance, as does Dorothea.

“What now?” Dorothea asks with a teasing smirk. 

“We spar,” Ingrid says simply. “I need to see how much you know.”

Dorothea’s smirk seems to deepen as she says, “Oh, a test? I promise not to disappoint then.” 

Then, she strikes.

Dorothea is  _ fast _ . Much faster than Ingrid anticipates, and she barely has enough time to raise her lance. The sharp sound of wood against wood echoes for a moment before Dorothea draws back just enough to continue her assault. If Ingrid was any less than the fighter that she is, she thinks she might not be able to keep up. She spins her lance to follow Dorothea’s strikes, and she feels the vibrations of every hit she blocks.

The thing is, Dorothea isn’t just fast. She’s  _ smart. _ Ingrid finds her back against one of the pillars, the length of her lance braced painfully close to her neck as she holds Dorothea back. Dorothea, who presses forward with her training sword and her face, moving closer and closer until Ingrid feels like she can’t breathe. 

“Yield?” Dorothea all but whispers, face just a scant few inches from Ingrid’s.

As tempting as it would be to just give in, Ingrid grunts, “Not quite.” She pulls back ever so slightly, but it’s enough. She slams the handle of the lance against Dorothea’s sword hard enough to send the other woman stumbling backwards. Before she can regain her balance, Ingrid is on her. Her lance whistles through the air as Ingrid jabs forward. Dorothea manages to duck out of the way before parrying the second thrust with her sword.

Dorothea pants as they circle each other. Dorothea has worked up a fine sheen of sweat that makes her skin glint under the dim firelight and her ponytail stick to her neck. Ingrid loses focus for a second too long, and Dorothea takes full advantage of the distraction. She strikes for the second time, and Ingrid almost doesn’t move fast enough. Almost. Her lance smacks against the sword with a satisfying clap, and Ingrid grins.

The two of them trade blows like that until Ingrid’s palms burn from gripping the wooden handle and her muscles give way to the sweet burn of a great workout. Ingrid isn’t sure how long they spar for, or how long they could have gone for, if she hadn’t tripped over a gauntlet someone left on the ground. Dorothea sees her lose balance and wastes no time sweeping her foot under Ingrid’s to finish the job. What Dorothea doesn’t see coming is Ingrid’s hand reaching for her. 

When Dorothea feels calloused fingers close around her wrist, it’s too late. She’s pulled down with Ingrid, and the two of them land in a heap on the ground. Ingrid groans a little as Dorothea’s weight lands on top of hers. She lets go of the lance as her hands naturally find Dorothea’s waist, trying to stop her from moving as Ingrid regains her bearings. Ingrid blinks a few times before her vision focuses and she finds Dorothea a few inches from her, much like she’d been at the beginning of their spar.

“Since I’m on top, does this mean I win?” Dorothea asks, voice low and teasing and not suited at all for the training grounds. 

Suddenly, Ingrid is all too aware of the thin clothes they wear, the heated skin she can feel through them. She can feel Dorothea pressed up against every inch of her body, a leg slotted between her own. The two of them are breathing heavily from the spar, and this does nothing to help the way Ingrid’s head spins. It makes it that much harder for Ingrid to pull away, to stop looking at Dorothea. To stop her from following the flushed skin from her face and down her neck to where it disappears beneath her tunic. 

Ingrid’s eyes snap back up to Dorothea’s, dimly aware that she never answered and they’ve been in this position far too long. Neither of them move though. Instead, they both stare at each other like they’re frozen in time. Ingrid isn’t sure who moves first, her or Dorothea, but all she knows is their lips meet in a heated kiss that makes her entire body burn in a way that is much, much different than the way her muscles burn when she pushes them during a workout. 

Dorothea’s hands cup Ingrid’s face, pulling her closer. She kisses her the way Ingrid always imagined Dorothea would kiss, passionate and loving and absolutely breathtaking. Her lips are soft, and her tongue is hot, and everything about Dorothea makes Ingrid want more. 

When Dorothea bites down on her lip, Ingrid grasps and clutches at Dorothea’s hips. Her nails dig in, and Ingrid wishes they were digging into supple flesh instead of cloth. The thought sends Ingrid reeling, and she pulls away from Dorothea with a gasp. Dorothea rests her forehead against hers, both of them panting for a much different reason than before.

“We should spar more often if it ends like this,” Dorothea murmurs.

That breaks the moment. “Dorothea,” Ingrid sighs and sits up, careful not to hurt Dorothea as she does. The other girl doesn’t budge, settling for sitting in Ingrid’s lap. Ingrid tries to look annoyed, but it’s incredibly hard when she’s got a gorgeous girl she’s got a huge crush on in her lap. A gorgeous girl she just made out with. Goddess… This is not how Ingrid thought this would go. “Dorothea, I…”

“Think I’m an incredible swordsman and kisser and want to have more private lessons like this?” Dorothea cuts her off with an all too pleased smile, but Ingrid also catches the hint of nervousness in her face. The smile flickers. “Or, you want to pretend this never happened?”

“No,” Ingrid says immediately. Dorothea blinks in surprise, and Ingrid sighs. “No,” Ingrid repeats softly, placing her hands back on Dorothea’s waist. “I just…” Ingrid huffs. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to buy you flowers and ask you to dinner, not…” Ingrid waves vaguely around them. “This.”

Dorothea stares at her for a moment before giggling. She hides her beautiful smile and laugh behind a hand before she says, “Oh, my lovely Ingrid. While I appreciate the thought, this is more than enough.” Dorothea’s eyes soften. “You are more than enough.”

Ingrid opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Her cheeks flush a dark red as Dorothea’s words settle inside her, almost molten hot. When she tries again, all Ingrid manages to say is, “It’s getting late. We should get back to the dormitory.”

“Is this you fishing for an invitation back to my room?” Dorothea teases. Ingrid, who’d been in the process of standing, trips over her feet and almost lands back on the ground. Thankfully, Dorothea catches her with a cheeky smile. “Too soon?” Dorothea laughs.

“Let’s just take it on step at a time,” Ingrid says.

“Whatever you want,” Dorothea replies. She leans forward and presses a kiss to Ingrid’s cheek. When she pulls back, Ingrid chases her lips with her own. Ingrid can’t stop herself from deepening the kiss, not knowing when’s the next time she’ll be able to do this. Dorothea sighs into the kiss before finally pulling away. She’s got pink cheeks and looks prettier than Ingrid can ever remember. “Is it the sparring that gets you like this or me?” When Ingrid doesn’t answer immediately, Dorothea smirks and adds, “Or both?” Ingrid’s dark blush is answer enough, and Dorothea laughs. She reaches down and grabs Ingrid’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Come on, let’s go.”

The two of them put up their weapons and grab their things before leaving the training grounds. As they walk down the quiet halls, Dorothea’s hand brushes against Ingrid’s every so often until Ingrid finally holds it. Dorothea startles, looking surprisingly shy at the touch. When she looks at Ingrid, she smiles softly and ducks her head. It’s almost unfair how cute it is. 

They’re almost to their rooms when Ingrid remembers her promise to Mercedes and Annette. Stopping abruptly, Ingrid mutters, “Aw, man.”

“What’s wrong?” Dorothea asks.

“I told Mercie and Annette I’d meet them in the kitchens after we finished,” Ingrid explains. She doesn’t mention the reason she has to meet them is to talk about Dorothea. Her lips twist into an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Dorothea pouts a little, but then she’s stepping close enough that it feels like the air’s been sucked from Ingrid’s lungs. “Good night then, my lovely Ingrid.” Dorothea’s lips are a whisper against hers before she’s gone, leaving Ingrid gasping. It’s unfair, Ingrid decides. Dorothea is just unfair.

Shaking her head, Ingrid trudges to the kitchen where Mercedes and Annette sit around the counters, curled around two cups of hot cocoa with a third sitting in front of them. They must hear her come in before they look up in unison. They take one look at her before bursting into giggles.

“Good training session?” Mercedes asks.

“It was fine,” Ingrid replies shortly.

Annette grins, “Oh, I’d say more than fine given the hay in your hair.”

Ingrid’s hand flies to her braid as she stammers, “We- we were sparring! It happens.”

“If it was just sparring, you wouldn’t be blushing like that,” Mercedes points out with an amused smile.

“Come on, Ingrid, spill!” Annette says.

Ingrid rolls her eyes as she lets herself get pulled down to the third stool, but she can’t quite hide her grin. As Annette hurries to reheat her drink and Mercedes sets a slice of cake in front of her, Ingrid finally caves and starts telling them what happened. 

The squeals and gasps are almost too much, but then Ingrid remembers Dorothea’s lips against hers and tells herself she’ll just invite Dorothea to an extra long training session tomorrow to make up for her suffering now. It's Dorothea's fault she's in this position in the first place. Dorothea and her stupid smile and stupid lips and stupidly amazing sword skills.


End file.
